White Blank Page (A Supernatural High School AU)
by starsfleet
Summary: Also known as - the one where Dean is dared to make out with Castiel, and he finds out he really, really likes it. Rated M for future chapters. Blink and you'll miss it Ruby/Anna.
1. Chapter 1

It started with:

"Winchester, you're partnered up with Novak."

And it all went downhill from there.

SPNSPNSPN

Dean Winchester was popular.

Castiel Novak was not.

It was just the way things were; both were content in their social standings, and were aware of the other.

Dean knew Castiel from Sam, his sometimes-way-too-smart-for-his-own-good brother, as they were both on the soccer team. Dean had given Sam and Castiel rides home a few times, though few words were ever exchanged with Dean and the mysteriously quiet friend of his brother's.

Castiel knew Dean because of Sam, but probably would have known him if not for that because, well, everyone knew Dean.

In Castiel's junior year, they had probably spoken less than fifty words to each other, that is, until that fateful day when their history teacher, Dr. Uriel decided he wasn't going to let his students pick their partners for their social studies project.

Dean shifted in his seat, hoping he would get

"Winchester, you're partnered up with Novak." he said, looking at Dean from behind half circle lenses.

Dean stopped for a second, frowning.

_Novak? Why does that name seem familiar?_

"Get together and discuss schedules, exchange numbers, the like, until class ends," Dr. Uriel instructed, glancing up at the clock.

"Hello, Dean."

The gravelly voice snapped his attention upward, and he was met with icy blue eyes, and a blank, but somehow polite looking expression. Dean's eyes wandered to his trenchcoat, and tried to suppress a laugh.

Who the fuck wears a _trench coat? _

He let himself look at his face once more, and to his surprise, he realized… he was kind of pretty, in an angelic sort of way. A little bit different, but he felt like if he stared at him too much, he'd find that he looked… sort of…

Beautiful.

Oh! Dean remembered now. He couldn't quite pinpoint it, but he definitely knew him from somewhere. It would be tough to forget eyes like that.

"Hey…" Dean trailed off, suddenly feeling like a total ass for forgetting his name.

_Ca- Cap- Cas?_

_ "_Castiel." He finished for him, not seeming to be annoyed.

"Right. " Dean smiled tightly, his heart dropping as he realized Castiel (what the fuck kind of name was that anyway?) probably wouldn't be one to just do all the work. He would actually have to put in effort in this project. Involuntarily, he shuddered.

"Are you alright?" Castiel asked, still standing awkwardly even though there was a seat next to Dean available.

"Yeah. So look, _Castiel_," he said, tasting the name and realizing that he really, really liked the way it felt on his lips, "I don't know if you know this, but I don't actually do this whole… academic bullshit, so I apologize in advance for being a dumbass during this whole ass of a project."

Dean played it off as funny, but it stung a little. At times, it sucked to be known as just another dumb ass jock.

"I'm sure you won't be."

Dean was prepared to reply with a comeback when he stopped, mouth half open. "Wait. What?"

"I doubt you will be a 'dumb ass'," Castiel replied, the swear sounding ugly and foreign with his voice, "as you so delicately put it. Sam says you're smarter than you let on."

It was then that Dean remembered where he'd seen Castiel from. Sam used to come home, all excited that a junior had actually talked to him, a freshman, on the soccer field. Dean had no idea they still even conversed.

"Oh. Well Sam's full of shit, he doesn't know what he's talking about," Dean said, just a little bit playfully. Castiel smiled a tight smile, and sat down next to him.

"So. Let's get started," said the blue eyed boy.

SPNSPNSPN

Actually, that wasn't where things started to go wrong.

It was that day at lunch, when Meg went:

"Truth or dare, Dean?"

Yeah. That's when things started to take a turn for the worse.

"Truth or dare, Dean?" She asked, toying around with the tip of a lollipop with her tongue. If Dean had been paying attention, he might have found it a little suggestive. But he wasn't. He was too busy staring at a blond guy's ass across the lunchroom. Normally, he protested skinny jeans. But in this case? Damn.

"Dean?" Meg asked again, shoving him playfully.

"Huh?"

"We've been playing truth or dare," she explained, motioning to the rest of their lunch table. It was an incredibly cliché popular kid lunch table, complete with the jocks wearing their uniforms, and the cheerleaders wearing theirs. They were seated in the middle of the crowded cafeteria, and they could usually actually feel the envious (and sometimes spiteful) stares and glances they received reverberating around the room.

"What are you? In eighth grade?"Dean asked, incredulously, though he knew full well that they were all seniors. They were the elite of the elite, and Dean, though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, relished it.

"Oh, calm your tits, Winchester," one of the boys said, donning a leather jacket. His name was Luc. He was their crew's resident bad boy. "We aren't daring you to lick the floor or anything. Just go."

Dean figured it was best to agree; getting on Crowley's bad side, even for something as miniscule at this, wasn't a smart decision. Not that Dean ever prided himself on making smart decisions, but still.

"Fine. Dare, I guess."

"Alright!" Meg clapped, excited. She turned to Ruby, eyes wide as they whispered something, hands covering their mouths and all.

Dean picked at his fries, not feeling too hungry at the moment. He waited, eyes wandering over to the cute blond guy, who had just sat down. Dammit. His face wasn't nearly as hot as his ass.

"We got it!" Ruby announced, and suddenly half of the lunch room was quiet, as if they'd been listening in the whole time. To think of it, they probably were. "Dean Winchester, you have to make out with someone, right here, in the middle of the cafeteria."

Dean groaned inwardly, as their table cheered, and by default, so did most of the lunchroom.

"Wow, Meg. I congratulate you on your creativity; I'm surprised you came up with that that quickly." He smirked. Some of the football players adjacent to him laughed.

"Say what you want, Winchester, but you agreed. You have to do it." Ruby answered for her, smiling deviously.

"Fine, fine," _making out with someone shouldn't be too hard, _Dean thought to himself," who's the lucky lady?"

"Uh-uh-uh…" Meg drawled. "Oh. Sorry. Did we forget to mention?" Dean grimaced. He knew what was coming. "You're not making out with a girl."

Tension vibrated though the hall; even a few _oooohs_ could be heard.

Dean was going to have to make out with a guy. In front of everyone.

Dean didn't really find the thought unappealing, actually, depending on the person, it sounded kind of hot. Deep down, Dean knew he wasn't completely straight; he had come to terms with it in sophomore year, when he enjoyed watching the boys swim team just a little bit too much.

Comfortable with it as he was, it wasn't a fact he'd wanted to shout out to all the upperclassmen. He bit down on his lip. He could act his way through this.

"What the fuck? I'm not a fag," he spat, though inside, he winced when he heard the slur. It felt wrong in his mind.

"Too bad, Dean. Too bad." One of the other boys, Crowley, said, smirking at him from across the table.

"That's disgusting," he said, frowning. He hoped he was as convincing as he wanted to be.

"Well, your dare. Your problem," Meg said, "oh, and we don't mean just a kiss, Dean. We said 'make out' for a reason." She sneered, looking triumphant.

"Fine, whatever, let me get it over with. Who am I supposed to make out with?" He said it with enough disdain in his tone and on his face for his act to be believable.

"Him."

Ruby's finger pointed behind him, and he turned, following her line of sight. His heart dropped into his stomach as he found her target, a guy sitting all alone at a table all the way in the back. He couldn't see his face, but he gulped. He recognized the beige, out of place trench coat.

"Oh!" Crowley said, obviously amused, "That's the freak with the super religious family. I'm sure he'd love a little boy on boy action, considering how accepting Christians are of that and all."

Dean suddenly felt a little guilty.

He was far, far from religious, but he knew if he was, he probably wouldn't want to go around doing things that would send him to hell. But he could tell by the looks on everyone's faces, some disgusted with the idea, but curious to watch, some girls who probably were going to get off on it, some people just wanting to see Dean squirm, that he wasn't going to be able to get out of this.

He stood up, and as he made his way towards the trench coat wearing boy with the sea blue eyes, almost every everyone watching him as he neared the table, there was a part of Dean that wanted to taste Castiel, to see if his lips tasted as good as the way his name did on his tongue.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

When Anna went, "Castiel. Dean Winchester is walking towards you," Castiel just _knew _something weird was going on.

He'd been much too engrossed in the folded book in his hands, _East of Eden, _by _John Steinbeck, _to notice the absense of sound in the lunchroom, the sudden tension. His fingers tapped on the side of the novel, eyes glued to the words and letters that swam in his mind to weave together a story that was so colourful in his mind, it took that sentence to pull him out of it.

_Dean Winchester. Is walking towards me._

He turned around in his seat, resting his book on the table. He raised an eyebrow, because sure enough, here he was, taking long, confident strides towards him, eyes locked onto his.

Castiel muttered something under his breath, eyes going wide.

"Hey, Castiel." Dean called out, when he was merely yards away.

"Hello, Dean." He worked out, clearing his throat. For some reason, he stood. He noticed something determined about Dean's swagger, one he'd never seen in his walk before.

The distance between them was closed; Dean sliced through his personal space and came suffocatingly close to him. He felt an arm take his waist, and his breath seep out of his body.

_"__I'll explain later,"_ Dean hissed, eyes hard as he surged forward, lips colliding against Castiel's in a beautiful lapse of colour.

To say it took his breath away would be an understatement. Castiel's lungs had suddenly forgetten how to breathe; his muscles contracted, and his feet became instantly numb, rendering him completely still.

The kiss was galaxies away from what Castiel imagined his first would feel like. He'd suspected soft, warm lips, but here was rough, invasive tongue, and he wasn't completely sure he was enjoying it. But then, as if Dean could read his mind, the kiss turned sweet.

Castiel's lips relaxed against Dean's own plump ones. He was vaguely aware of the fact that the lighter haired boy's mouth tasted of cherries and Diet Coke, a taste that sent his taste buds into oblivion.

The whole affair lasted no longer than fifteen seconds, but to Castiel it felt like a lifetime; each swipe of tongue, each brush of cheek making his mind whir with feelings and hopes and lust he'd never felt.

When Dean finally broke away, Castiel pouted. He abruptly remembered that they were in the middle of a slightly homophobic highschool cafeteria.

For a second, their eyes met, Dean's cloudy with an emotion he couldn't quite place, Castiel's blown out wide. Dean quickly composed himself.

"There!" Dean exclaimed, wiping his mouth and shrugging, laughing at his table of friends. "Crowley, it's your turn next!" Confused, Castiel looked, chest clenching as Dean left to join the 'popular table'. The reactions of them were mixed. Most of the guys welcomed him back with playful digust; the girls stared, starry eyed, not even trying to hide their enjoyment.

"What- what just happened?" One of Castiel's, friends, a sophomore named Chuck, whispered.

Castiel shook his head, still numb with confusion.

"Chuck- I don't- I have no idea."

Castiel stood, hurt evident in his stare. Dean risked a glance back, and visibly winced.

He remembered what Dean had said before this, that he would explain later.

He hoped he did.

* * *

SPNSPNSPN

* * *

While he was putting on a unphased face at his lunch table, Dean Winchester was freaking the fuck out.

He had kissed another guy.

He was okay with that. Really. He was.

His sexuality was nothing more than another part of him; another piece of complicated puzzle that was Dean. He neither denied it, nor embraced it, he was just comfortable with who he was. He just didn't need all the shit from all of his friends if they found out. He'd wait until college, then start exploring.

But this- oh god, that kiss he'd just had- it was _downright irresistable._

He'd been surprised he'd been able to stop when he did, especially when he pulled away, and all he could see was Castiel's blue, lust blown eyes, and his kiss swollen lips. The feel of his stubble against his cheek;

The comfort of his waist resting in his arm;

The closeness of him;

The smell of paperback books and trenchcoat fabric;

It was driving him insane.

For the remainder of the school day, he'd been in a sort of blur. He couldn't really focus on anything. He dozed off during Calculus, dreaming of sharp tufts of black hair, and sweet lips to match. By the end of the day, Dean was exhausted, and hungry for more.

As he waited in his car, a 1967 Chevy Impala (referred to by Dean as 'baby' numerous times), he took a moment to breathe. A high pitched noise interrupted him.

He looked down at his phone.

One new text.

_Dean, it's me, Castiel. I was wondering if you wanted to meet up at the library, after school tomorrow._

A lump caught in Dean's throat. His heart pulsed.

Meet up?

His phone beeped again.

_For the social studies project._

Oh. Right. Dean sighed, typing out a quick reply.

_Sure thing see you then._

* * *

SPNSPNSPN

* * *

"Alright, look, I can explain, man," Were the first words out of Dean's mouth when they met at the library the next day after school.

Castiel looked up, expressionless. "Hello Dean. Yes, please do. I think I deserve something."

Dean sat across from him at the library table, a pile of books inbetween them.

"Okay so my friends and I were playing Truth or Dare-"

"Oh." Castiel looked down, embarrassed he ever thought it was anything else. "Please, say no more, I completely-"

"Wait-" Dean blurted out, before he could stop himself. "_I really, really liked it, Castiel." _

The confession stunned them both.

They stayed like that for a second. Both boys opened their mouths to say something, but stopped, wanting the other to go first.

Dean laughed awkwardly, hand coming up to stroke his jaw, a habit he developed during uncomfortable situations.

"Okay so, yeah, it was a dare. And I'm sorry I took advantage of you like that, that was kind of a dick move."

"It's fine."

"Right." Dean said. "Okay. Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Are you gay?"

Castiel paused, tilting his head. He took some time, trying to come up with the best answer. He couldn't.

"Are you?"

Dean certainly didn't expect that. "Yeah, I am." He whispered, careful to keep his voice low, in case anyone from their school heard. "Well, bi. But I don't like many people to know."

"I understand. I am pansexual myself."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed together. "What does that mean?"

"Gender does not matter to me."

"Oh. I got ya." A silence emanated between them. "So, I was wondering, if maybe you wanted to make something... out of this." Dean gestured between them.

"What exactly do you mean?"

"Like a friends with benefits type of thing."

Castiel narrowed his eyes still.

"I'm asking if you want to go out with me," He explained, chuckling. "Just not in the traditional sense of the word."

"You want me to mess around with you?"

Dean almost choked on his breath, the bluntness of the statement catching him off guard. He didn't even know Castiel had known what that meant. He looked around quickly, making sure no one had heard.

Nope. Coast was clear.

"Well, yeah.." He admitted, blood rushing up to his cheeks.

"No." Castiel said firmly.

Dean blinked.

What?

He'd never been turned down before. This was definitely a first.

He cleared his throat, eyes searching Castiel's.

"Why? Did I do something to offend you or-"

"Yes, Dean, you did. I cannot believe you would think I would want to be used around like a whore-" Dean cringed at the word. That was so, so far from what he was implying, why couldn't Castiel see that- "just because your friends dared you to kiss me. You don't know a single damn thing about me, Dean Winchester."

Castiel stood up, his expression collected but slightly angry at the same time.

"And I would like to keep it that way. I'll do the project- it's no matter." He looked down at Dean from where he stood, eyes completely unreadable. He picked up the books off of the table, silent as he did so.

"Goodbye, Dean."

Dean watched the gentle swish of his trenchcoat as he left, saying a polite goodbye to the librarian, and not sparing a single glance back. He tried to collect his thoughts but they escaped him, too complex to be understood at the moment.

He stared at the space where Castiel sat moments before.

He tried to ignore the stirring in his chest.

He pretended he did not feel strangely empty.

* * *

SPNSPNSPN

* * *

"It was his first kiss, you know."

Dean turned, eyebrows raised. Sitting next to him was a red head, with piercing eyes, and long hair.

"Excuse me?"

She extended her hand. "I'm Anna. Anna Novak."

He shook her hand, and then the realisation crashed into him like a freight train.

_Novak._

"You're Castiel's..."

"Sister. Anna." He nodded. He looked around the science lab to make sure the teacher, surly old man with a bit of a temper, was focused on something else. He turned back, smiling.

"Right."

"I said, that was his first kiss." She scoffed. "And you stole it from him. Without even asking."

Dean could feel the disapproval reeking from her, and suddenly, the velocity of her words collided into him.

Castiel had never been kissed before.

And now Dean had taken this from him, a special something people stayed up late at night waiting for, praying for. His stomach tangled into knots. Castiel seemed like the type of person that this meant a lot to.

Fuck.

And then he'd gone on and asked him if he'd wanted to basically, fool around with him for nothing. Jesus Christ.

"I- I didn't know..." He muttered, avoiding eye contact.

"Yeah. I figured you didn't. Point is, I think he deserves and apology, or a do over, or something." She paused, lips curving into a tight smile. "I think you're a good guy, Dean. I know you can do the right thing."

Dean took that as – _do the right thing or I'll come and find you – _and nodded, turning back to his work before his teacher turned around, grimacing.

"Alright, onto the next chapter."

* * *

SPNSPNSPN

* * *

_Can we talk?_

Dean set the phone down as soon as he sent the text. He wiped his palms against his jacket. Gosh. For some reason, nervousness made it's way into his mind. He wanted to do right by Castiel. And honestly, he couldn't understand why.

Besides Sammy, there had never been a reason, or a time, to care about anyone else's feelings. Maybe that made him selfish. Hell, he was everything else- worthless, irresponsible, stupid, futureless- might as well add selfish to the list.

He thought back to a few days ago, when they met.

_"I don't know if you know this, but I don't actually do this whole… academic bullshit, so I apologize in advance for being a dumbass during this whole ass of a project._

_"I'm sure you won't be."_

That was probably it, the fact that he had never once judged Dean, regardless of rumours he'd probably heard, or stories he'd probably frowned at.

And at the moment, Dean realised how much that mattered to him.

He was so lost in his cloud of thoughts he hadn't even realised his phone screen had lit up.

_Sure. I'll see you in social studies._

Dean read it, biting down on his lip. It wasn't exactly the ideal place he wanted to talk, but it would do for now.

"Dean!" Sam's voice called out.

Dean jumped, forgetting that he wasn't alone in the house.

"Yeah?"

"Dinner's ready!" Dean yelled back confirmation, and then threw the phone onto his bed.

He stepped down the stairs, the smell of pie wafting up to meet him.

* * *

SPNSPNSPN

* * *

_Look I really need to talk to you, _Dean scribbled on a piece of paper. He crumpled it up and flicked it in Castiel's direction. It landed square in the centre of his desk.

At Castiel's adorable frown, Dean couldn't help from smile.

Wait. Adorable?

Where did that come from..?

He shook his head as if to shake the thought out, and went back to his textbook. Castiel probably wouldn't even respond; he was too pissed at him anyway.

"Alright now... we move on to the reason the Odyssey is such a great epic poem," Dr. Uriel commented, holding a piece of broken chalk in his hand. He began to write something on the board.

"Why the hell are we learning English in Social Studies?" Crowley said, smirking. Dean had to wonder, too. What's next, math?

"To answer your question, Mr.-"

The paper hit Dean in the side of the head, and he let out a startled laugh.

He froze, cleared his throat, and stared intently at his textbook.

When Crowley and Dr. Uriel continued to banter, Dean opened up the note, which had been carefully folded into a neat square.

_I'm not really interested, Dean. _

His heart sank.

He wrote a reply, careful not to be seen. He wrote out his entire apology, one he'd gone over in his head a last night, while sleep would not take him. His hand shook as he wrote, and he bit his lip. He didn't know if he could handle this rejection, should Castiel choose to.

"Dean Winchester!"

His head snapped up, pencil clattering to the desk.

"Perhaps you would like to share with the class?" Dr. Uriel asked, and Dean's breath caught in his throat instantly, cheeks flushing a brilliant red.

"Sorry, Professor, I'll just-"

"Read it. Out loud."

Dean grimaced, and then nodded. There wouldn't be a way out of this one. Ruefully, he rose, making his way to the front of the classroom.

"Okay. Um." He glanced hesitantly at Castiel, who looked embarrassed, to say the least. He probably just hoped his name wasn't mentioned, and he'd get in trouble.

"I've been trying to think of a way to say I'm sorry, so I guess this is it." Dean swallowed and continued. "I didn't realise it was your first kiss, and I never meant to take something special from you." His cheeks remained a vibrant red, as he never wanted to sound like such a hopeless romantic in front of everyone. "I've only really known you for a few days, but I thought you were pretty cool, and I want us to stay friends-" Dean quickly skipped over Castiel's name, "but I understand if you don't forgive me. I was a dick to you, and I deserve any shit you want to give me, but I'd really like to be friends, if you'd forgive me just this once."

Dean's eyes fluttered up to meet Castiel's, bright and happy.

Castiel's mouth was turned up in a slight, slight smile.

* * *

SPNSPNSPN

* * *

"Okay. We can be acquaintances." Castiel said into the phone, leaning against the headboard in his room.

"Normal people answer the phone with 'hello', Cas." Dean teased, though his heart lept in his chest. He was finally forgiven.

Castiel stopped, mind running over the last sentence. "Cas?"

"Oh. Sorry. Yeah, it's just- Castiel is such a mouthful and-"

"No, it's fine. I like it."

"Okay. Good." Dean couldn't help but smile.

"I imagine since we are friends now, we'll be doing the project together. My house isn't... ideal. But yours or the library could work." Dean resisted from asking about Cas' family, and nodded, then realised he couldn't see him.

"Sounds good."

"Alright. Well, it's getting late. I'll be off to sleep soon."

"Oh, okay." Dean desperately tried to coat the disappointment in his tone. "Well then, I guess this is goodnight, Cas."

"Goodnight, Dean."

The line went silent.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**Thank you for being patient; I know it's been a while, haha.**

**Thank you to all who have been reading/following/favouriting, it's very much appreciated! **

**Reviews are love 3**


	3. Chapter 3

Dean knew something was wrong when Cas didn't know up for their study session in the library.

Castiel always showed up.

It had been two weeks since they'd 'made up', and gradually, they were becoming much closer.

It started with Dean freaking the fuck out when he heard Castiel had never once even listened to Metallica. Ever. And then it became:

"Come over to my house; I'll show you some real music."

Which progressed to:

"Come on, just stay for dinner. I've already kept you late enough."

Which in turn travelled to:

"Cas, you're at my house pretty much all the time. Why not sleep over?"

And so a solid friendship was created. It seemed as if they spent most of their time in contact with each other, whether it involved working on their dreaded project, or just hanging out, or just texting back and forth.

Dean had never hung out with his popular crew much to begin with, but now, they were becoming seemingly obsolete. He'd grown to use the excuses, 'My dad'll kill me if I don't ace this project', or 'I'm just not feeling up to it, family problems, you know?' much more than he had before, as he didn't know what would happen if they found out he was spending all of his time with Castiel, the "bible freak."

These were false, of course, Bobby and Ellen were great, and didn't give a crap about his grades if he was trying his best. But he'd never had one of the jocks over at his house, so they didn't know.

In reality, Castiel wasn't. A bible freak, that is.

They hardly ever talked about God, like they hardly ever talked about Cas' family, both which seemed like sore subjects best left untouched.

They were comfortable with each other.

Dean sometimes felt his eyes wander, taking note of the plumpness of Cas' lips, or the striking blue of his eyes. There would be a vacantness in his chest, an absense, one he didn't like to think about. His feelings for Cas _had _to stay platonic. He knew Castiel didn't want anything else. And he was mildly alright with that.

And so Dean was getting used to having a concrete friendship, used to meeting up everyday and talking, and so when Castiel didn't show up in the library, he was worried. They had planned to study for their chemistry midterm (they were in different classes, but had the same teacher) together, and then head out for pizza afterwards.

He tapped the end of his pencil against the desk impatiently, eyes searching for the pale swish of a trenchcoat, or black tufts of hair.

But a half hour after they had agreed to meet, Castiel still wasn't there.

"Shit, Cas, what the hell is taking you so long?" Dean muttered to himself, running his hands through his hair.

He took out his phone.

Right as he was about to type out a message, it rang, making him jump just a bit. People around him turned, and he laughed nervously, picking it up. The name 'Castiel' flashed across his screen as he pressed it to his ear.

"Hey, Cas, buddy, I need you. Where'd you go off to?"

"Dean." Castiel's voice was raw and breathy, with a hint of urgency he'd never heard before. His voice was quiet.

"Cas, what's wrong?" He leaned forward, listening close to hear him.

"Dean. It seems I won't be able to make our appointment."

"What? Why?"

"It seems-" He heard Cas wince in pain, and his heart flipped. What the hell was going on? "It seems that someone at our school found out about my sexuality."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Crowley, he, er, found me afterschool. Made it clear he wasn't very accepting of the fact that I was gay."

"Are you saying he did something to you?" Dean lowered his voice, jaw set and hard. If Crowley laid a hand on Castiel, he swore he would-

"Yes. But you don't need to-"

"Where are you?"

"Dean, I-"

"Cas, where are you? I'm coming to get you."

He heard Castiel sigh, defeated. "Outside the gym, in the alley."

"Don't move."

Castiel laughed, breathily, then coughed several times, what seemed very painfully. "That shouldn't be a problem."

**SPNSPNSPN**

"Jesus Christ," Dean hissed, as he came around the corner, and the image of Castiel, very obviously bruised, crept into his line of vision.

He rushed over, kneeling down to his level. Instantly, he could see his arm bent at a really, really wrong angle, and the right side of his face was a flushed purple. The sight made Dean's stomach twist.

"Hey, hey, you with me?" Dean muttered, using his hand to steady Castiel's back, to hold him upright. Cas mumbled something, his lips rose red with blood.

"Cas, come on. Here, we need to get you to the Impala." Dean tried to ignore the slap of his heart against his chest as it beat furiously against him. He felt physically ill, looking at Castiel broken like this. He tried to ignore his ocean floor eyes as he slipped his arm around his waist, and lifted him up.

Noises of half gargled recognition sounded in Dean's ear.

"Dean..." Cas whispered, eyes shut tight.

And then he was silent.

"Fuck, Cas, don't black out." He shook him lightly. Again. "Cas?"

No response.

"Alright, let's go." Dean grimaced, rising and lifting up the dark haired boy in one swift move.

Subconciously, Castiel nuzzled into Dean's side, cheek burrowing into the fabric of his leather jacket. Dean felt his heart do somersaults.

He moved quickly, but cautiously, as to not cause his friend any more pain.

**SPNSPNSPN**

Castiel's eyes fluttered open, the right one only halfway, as it was swollen shut. His head rested on many pillows positioned so he was somewhat upright. His eyes recognized the ACDC posters and the Playboy calenders scattered along the walls, and he knew immediately where he was, though not exactly.

He knew he was somewhere safe.

He could see the darkness of night through the windows, and he wondered what time it was.

He stayed like that, lying on his back for several minutes, scared to move and accidentally break, or pull something. He tapped his fingers against the soft fabric of the sheets below him, to the beat of the Led Zeppelin track vibrating in the room like electricity.

"Castiel?" A familiar voice broke into his thoughts.

In his peripheral vision, he saw a tall, gangly figure, and he smiled softly. He'd recognize that hair anywhere.

"Sam." His voice startled him, being soft, and broken, and so quiet, he'd doubted whether or not Sam had even heard him.

"Hey, man, you alright?" Sam asked, walking over, and kneeling down next to the bed. Castiel nodded, throat closing up.

"What the hell happened to you? Dean never explained," Sam continued, and the realisation dawned on Castiel.

He was in Dean's room.

_Oh._

Dean had been the one to rescue him. He vaguely remembered passing out near him, though like most of his memory of what happened, it was fleeting.

"I don't-," Castiel coughed, clearing his throat, or at least trying to.

"_Cas_," a new voice interjected, and Cas strained his neck to look up, blue eyes meeting Dean's green.

"Hello, Dean." He said, tone completely scratchy.

"I'll leave you two," Sam said, before standing up and leaving, giving Castiel a quick smile.

Dean waited until the door closed before going into full panic mode.

"I'm going to kick Crowley's ass so hard, Cas, I swear, he'll be limping for weeks, Jesus Christ, look at you-"

"Is it really that bad?"

"Oh. No. Not at all, really, just-"

Castiel chuckled. "I was kidding, Dean. I am well aware I look like I was in a bar fight."

Dean smiled a half smile, sitting down on the bed, careful not to get to close to him. His eyes wandered to how roughed up he looked, and Dean felt like vomiting. He caught Castiel's gaze, not able to tear away from heavy lidded, ocean eyes.

"I am afraid I am going to fall back asleep soon," Castiel noted.

"Alright." Dean kept on staring. "Are you... in pain?"

Cas winced. "Yes. Very much."

Dean nodded, looking at his lap. Abruptly, his eyes felt wet, swimming with his stupid ass feelings, and his dumb fuck emotions he wish he could press down deep inside, tuck down into his carcass, so that no one could see, but now here he was, about to cry in front of the boy he was in love with.

He pursed his lips, jaw tight, as he tried to pull back the tears.

"Dean?" Cas asked, worried.

"I just- um-" He pressed his palm across his jaw, stroking the short hairs of stubble that rested there, catching his thumb on his lower lip. "I feel like- I feel like I have all these friends, but I only really have one. You, Cas. Everyone else, man, they don't know shit about me, and I could have lost you, today, Cas- that-" he let out slow, shaky exhale. "That is something I don't know I could live through.

"And I know we've only been friends for a couple a' weeks, but Castiel-" it was the first time in two weeks he'd called him by his full name. "God, man, just be careful, alright? Please."

On impulse, Cas' hand leaped forward, grabbing Dean's, taking ahold of his fingers in one swipt motion.

Dean took an intake of breath, not sure what to do next.

Tension shook between them.

Dean squeezed back, knuckles turning white as he clenched his hand, tight.

"I will try to be more careful, Dean. I am honoured to be your friend." His words were stiff, but Dean could see Castiel's eyes, warm with something.. an emotion he couldn't quite place. "Thank you, Dean, for getting me back here."

Cas did not let go of his hand.

"Yeah. Of course."

"Did you take me to the hospital?"

"No, uh, you were mumbling something about not wanting your parents to know, not wanting Gabriel to find out- somethin' like that, so we just took you home."

"We?" Castiel asked, ignoring the comments about his family.

"Sam and I. Mom fixed you up when you got home."

Castiel nodded. He had met Mary Winchester many times before. Castiel let go of his hand, trying to ignore the falter in Dean's expression.

"I am very tired."

"Oh- okay."

"Can you sleep with me?"

Dean's eyes blew wide.

"No, no..." Cas shook his head, already yawning. "I can't explain it, but I feel uneasy. I think I would like you, uhm-" He lifted his gaze, and tilted his head. "If you could just be here, with me." Castiel breathed out.

Dean figured he was afraid.

Afraid of being alone, afraid of getting attacked again; Dean wished he could push all of his fears away.

Well.

He could try.

"Ye- Yeah. Sure, Cas." Castiel groaned as he turned on his side, ribs aching as he did so.

"Are you alright?" Dean asked.

Cas nodded, but just barely.

Dean laid down, and Castiel felt the bed dip with his weight. He immediately let out a breath, before reaching back behind him, and taking Dean's hand in his, and bringing it around to his chest, so Dean's arm wrapped around his torso.

"Cas- are you-"

"Just, Dean, please. I feel safe right now. Please."

Dean had never heard Cas' voice so needy before. So he nodded, cuddling up against his back, ignoring the thumping in his chest, the whirring in his brain, the feelings in his heart. His cheek laid on the fabric of Castiel's trenchcoat. He smiled against it.

Dean's stereo system was still playing; this time a song he'd learnt to love, though the genre usually wasn't his favourite, _White Blank Page_, by Mumford and Sons.

The steady strum of the guitar lulled his eyes to close, as the lyrics strangley matched the situation.

_Can you lie next to her_  
_And give her your heart, your heart_  
_As well as your body_  
_And can you lie next to her_  
_And confess your love, your love_

And so, there Dean stayed, until sleep took them both.


End file.
